


The Wedding Escort

by Starxdragyn



Category: Vegebul - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Gochi - Freeform, Vegebul, Wedding date
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29751924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starxdragyn/pseuds/Starxdragyn
Summary: In Parallel Universe #e11715...When famous galactic scientist Bulma Briefs has to face the metaphorical infamous music of an Earth scandal from years past to celebrate in her two best friends wedding renewal, she seeks the assistance of a shady associate's in order to rent an escort for the long-weekend event. Money can't buy the heiress everything but perhaps the little white lie can buy her some more time to smooth things over.Prince of a forgotten race and current mercenary to War-monger Frieza, Vegeta is only biding his time before he can attack the beast holding his chains when an order for an unorthodox mission falls upon him. Though he wasn't above much, the Earthling scientist and her planet sounded like a place his patience would go to wither and die. Just how far was he willing to go for Frieza until his endgame was met? -Or is the better question how far was he willing to follow Bulma even if it put his objectives at risk?
Relationships: Bulma Briefs/Vegeta, Chi-Chi/Son Goku (Dragon Ball), Z-fighters - Relationship
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	1. When Opposites Collide

**Author's Note:**

> *please be aware*  
> ~Characters and their likeness do not belong to me  
> ~This story loosely follows any DB, DBZ, DBS characteristics.   
> ~I made this for the soul intent to have fun; please enjoy!

Strobing asteroids rolled past Bulmas penthouse office window like a school of fish hustling by and she sighed. She missed Earths fish. That wouldn’t be a matter now; she’d be back on her home planet in a number of hours. A few straggler meteors flung themselves in the path of her gaze and Bulma wrung her hands at the sheer loneliness of space. 

“Your ride is here Miss Briefs.” The secretary paused, looking pained, “He, uh, he brought a car; he’s driving it.” 

Bulma looked up sharply, “What?” 

“He’s driving, Ma’am- a car.” Peeking over her shoulder, the pretty alien whispered as if scandalized, “It isn’t a Capsule Corporation vehicle, either.” 

“I told Friez-uerm,” Quickly catching herself, Kami, Bulma almost blabbed her own secret aloud, “-my gentleman friend was told the ship would leave from our launch pad, why is he in a car at all?” 

“I-I don’t know, M-ma’am.” 

“Its fine, Ora, I’ll handle him myself.” Circling her desk with echoing heel clicks, Bulma marched to the elevator. 

Well aware the young alien temps always got scared off when Bulmas face looked like it probably did right then, she strove for calm. This goon of Friezas probably didn’t want to escort her to Earth and attend Chi-Chi's wedding renewal any more then Bulma wanted to show her face anywhere near Yamcha and his double-trouble backstabbing girlfriend Launch. However, Bulma paid good money for Friezas most humanoid-looking goon to play boyfriend material for the weekend and regardless if they liked each other or the situation, she would get her money's worth. 

Finally exiting the ground floor elevator, the C.E.O. of Capsule Corps nebula #2317 Space Station bee-lined through the revolving door where she saw a loud-looking, louder-sounding blacked out hover craft rumbling in idle. The driver door oppisite her view opened and all that Bulma could see was the tips of some spiked black hair making its way around the back of the vehicle. 

Greeaat, Hes short. 

Probably Freeza picked the fugleyest gum-wad he had. One with pasty skin and an earths fake ghetto-fabulous universal dialect to hand over for the weekend. Dentures could be bought; glasses could be bought; but money only went so far. Eyeing the obnoxious exhaust smoke clouding her vision, Bulma took a breath in for patience. At least the midget wouldn’t be bald- his hair evaporated into the vaporized tar then reemerged causing the famous beauty of the galaxies (Bulma) to suck in a breath.. 

Walking toward her was sex-on-a-six-pack. Well, he probably had a six-pack better then she could imagine. Her eyes roamed his pectorals and muscular shoulders like searchlights at sea. The tail wrapped around his waist told her he was Saiyan. A happy accident that she met his goofy-fun loving kind before. The thickness of sinew roped from his very fingertips up his corded forearms and upper arms. She shot her eyes to his thighs. They matched the broad shoulders like a Renaissance gladiator, however, as where Earth culture depicted those Greeks to be stocky and thick, this guys waist and hips tapered perfectly, as if his range of motion would be like that of a cats; even his walk, which held swagger, was sleeker, somehow, more deadly then the usual suspects- 

“Done eye-fucking me, Princess?” The base snarl sounded purely erotic- until Bulma caught the words. 

Snapping her attention up while turning 10 different shades of red, Bulmas temper spiked, “I can eye-fuck whoever I want, rent-a-thug, I own further then you can see.” 

A flicker of surprise flashed over this very mortal-looking man's face. 

Good, she wasn’t done either, “You were instructed to catch a ride and come up through the penthouse so we could use my private ship.” 

“I’m not walking through your security detectors or personnel,” He sneered, “I’ve a pod that can get us to planet 9282734 in under four days waiting for us at the-“ 

Bulma laughed, sharp and condescendingly, “I’m not waiting four days to get to a wedding that’s in three! Puhleaze. My ship will get us there in two hours.” 

“That isn’t possible,” His sexy jawline took a stubborn tilt. 

“Of course its possible, I built it to do exactly that.” Turning on her heel, Bulma sashayed through the doorway, “and that planets name is Earth, Bone-head. Try to keep up.” 

Half expecting him not to follow, Bulma sent a sideways glance over her shoulder while awaiting the elevator. She may have been too harsh... 

The royal pain in the ass was walking in with one lone duffle, eyeing her. Pulse accelerating, she cast a flirtations smile over her shoulder until the doors in front of her dinged open. He strode in behind her causing the space to enclose in a delicious way. If he were her new secretary, he’d certainly last an entire month. What did he plan on doing with the car? Odd that he seemed so different then Goku, though. 

“The penthouse is on the ground elevator pad?!” He asked, incredulous. 

“What?” Bulma looked at the button marked ‘P,’ backlit and shiny, “Yeah, I don’t fly down from the roof, y’know.” 

“You don’t have security cameras in here, even.” He didn’t ask but the tone he used pissed Bulma off. 

“Why the hell would I? No one visits me!” Cringing at her wording, she amended, “Nobody would come to the penthouse without checking in at the front desk but me.” 

Giving her a sidelong look with his dark eyes, he said nothing and heat crept up the pretty quadruple trillionaires face. She wouldn’t explain further. Nope. And of course, he didn’t have the social grace to pick up the conversation, either! From the dark ages, this one was. 

“It’s rude to stare.” She folded her arms tight to her chest. 

“I’m a prince, I stare at anything I want.” 

Bulma snapped her head around, and for the barest of seconds, she thought he meant something else. Like he might want her.. 

Bing! 

The elevator doors opened to her sprawling penthouse; the huge garden plants flopped to frame the pretty view of her tastes yet her soon-to-be-pretend-date scoffed. Striding past her, he threw his gloved hand at the bay windows where the C.Corp rocket she’d designed this year sat neatly between fake Earth flora. 

“As if the pent house button on the main elevator board wasn’t bad enough; your fucking rocket is just sitting outside of your window,” He sneered, “Framed by bright plastic rot.” 

“Well the Helipad is on the roof so where the hell was the rocket pad gonna go?!” She snarked back. 

His eyes popped momentarily, “The Heli- for fucks sake!” 

“Hey, I had to give up my pool for that damned rocket pad,” Pushing past him, Bulma clipped her heels with extra sass against the plas-wood paneling floor to her packed suitcases, “but that’s the sacrifices geniuses make.” 

Rearranging the nine, large bright blue cases that held only her most essential living items for the weekend stay, she nearly broke her heel when a medium sized one popped a sideways wheelie instead of going where she expected. Her escort barked a laugh, moving past her with his lone duffle. He smirked as she struggled to wrangle her suitcases into correct groups of three. 

“Genius moves.” He shot while he walked out of the bay doors, the bastard. 

Odd, infuriating man! Bulma haphazardly pulled three capsules from her little black purse and snapped them to fit each suitcase group accordingly. Stuffing them into her bag, she scrambled to throw her coat on and chase after- what was his name? she wondered. With a turn on her heel, Bulmas gaze crashed into her mans from across the room. It felt like the oxygenation machine for her buildings atmosphere had been shut off and their bodies were stuffed into a two by two room for how he looked at her right then. 

She flashed the capsules with an oddly nervous laugh, “The Briefs family base building block: capsules from Capsule Coperation. ha-ha.” 

“Briefs. As in your name.” His gaze became guarded, unreadable. 

“Uhm, yeah, Bulma Briefs, here. I am my fathers daughter, after all.” She joked. 

He grunted then stood in front of the rocket hatch waiting to be let in, one hand in his pants pocket and the other around the duffle. Shrugging into her jacket, Bulma smoothed her hands over her cropped hair and joined him. Her handprint opened the way into the rocket and a three-step latter whirred to Bulmas feet. 

“I noticed you left your transport running.” She tried to make conversation. 

“It’s been taken care of already.” 

“Oh, well that’s good. Well, here we go.” Feigning casual, she closed the airlock behind them and proceeded to situate herself at the mainframe. 

Bulmas mind entered into the language of her science and mathematics with seamlessness. She allowed herself the manual option for the ships course and tried to forget just how small the five-by-five space they were in could feel. Engines roared as the quad shock absorbers locked on, it filled the silence but Bulmas mind whirred. Oh Kami, she prayed this little tiny white lie wasn’t the worst decision she ever made. 

\--- 

Vegeta couldn’t believe his eyes; when Frieza gave him this “delicate" mission, he thought he was being played. Yes, there were times he needed to gain intelligence; steal on behalf of the beast he was ever enslaved to, however, he was never instructed to whore himself out. It was a new low but the main directive was what this all was really about; gain the pretty scientist-girl's tech secrets. Friezas right hand, Zarbon, stated explicitly that if the brat with blue hair asked him to jump, he was to ask how high; that was how *important* the work she had under her fingertips could be. It was ironic that some of that new found knowledge actually sat at her fingertips, in a teeny tiny little black bag- holding luggage of all things. 

“How does this craft get us to where we are going in 2 hours?” The curiosity in Vegetas voice was surprisingly genuine. 

A sideways smile hit her pretty red lips as she gave him a sidelong glance, “Can’t quite work out the math, can you?” 

Vegeta snorted, annoying woman. 

“It's okay, I couldn’t either.” She looked back at the controls she was manning, “but a friend of mine does this instant transmission thing and he let me Guinea-Pig him for a while to understand the physics. Turns out it’s not about the power of the motor but the geo-plasmin print of ki that can be mimicked with Sulphu-crystal emitors-" 

“That’s not a thing.” Vegeta sat up, his arms crossed over his chest. 

“You’re right.” She agreed, on a laugh, “It wasn’t until I made it about two years ago. It took a while to find an element strong enough to de-structure a Crystal’s energy with a clean enough carbon footprint that a human could handle the element within a ten-foot radius and not die. I mean, I could take a hammer to a chunk of tanzanite but rocks ain’t gonna get my rocket goin’, y'knowwhatImean?” 

He had no fucking clue. Was that a joke? It was horrible. Her ramblings could be a made-up language, for all he could puzzle out. However, he didn’t actually care what she spoke of. The ship would prove itself and therefore he wasn’t going to continue to speak with this odd creature. Frieza’s interest in this delicate little blue bird made a lot more sense should she prove herself legitimate. Sex with her would be agreeable if it got him to his own underlying directive quicker. 

For her sake, she better with her puny ki reading of eight. Bugs could take this girl on and Vegeta wouldn’t bet on the winner. Nothing could save her if Frieza’s eye was on her, anyway. 

As the madman had taught Vegeta; even a prince could become a whore under the right circumstances. 

Bulma had turned her chair his way, kicking it in such a position as to lounge on full display like some inspired female painting. Was she still chattering? Vegeta tried to tune her out again with no avail once her aqua eyes found him. 

“-which is exactly why the pool had to go.” She blessedly paused to re-oxygenate, “I mean, nobody swims in the public pool on the other floor anyway. They all think I’m crazy for ‘trapping water,’ as they call it.” 

He tsked, “The planet we left was a desert planet, of course they don’t like bodies of water; they fear them.” 

“Yeah,” She agreed, looking at the stats flying by her screen for a moment before returning her attention to him, “Where you come from, is there bodies of water?” 

“Doesn’t matter.” He looked away. 

“I mean, it does,” She insisted, “I kind of have to know something about you in order to pretend you're my guy for this whole shebang.” 

Confused, Vegeta gave her his direct attention, he’d be danmed if she wanted him fucking her in a room full of people, shebang must be slang for some form of voyerism, “What do you mean, ‘your guy'?" 

Her azure brows wrinkled and Bulma sat up, “Uhm, the reason you’re here?” 

“To fuck you.” He stated, not allowing this shame to be known onto her; she would be dead once she returned him to his hover craft. 

Eyes bulging, Bulma shot up from her chair, hit her knee hard on the dash, and fell back down on a choked noise in her throat. Her hands wrapped around her knee, as she repeatedly attempted audio. A blush burned under Vegetas collar and it pissed him off. Who was she to judge him, her with her skin tight garments and bladed heels? She probably thought everyone who was anyone shebanged. Like most princesses and heiresses he had come across she would be perverse and into her humiliations. She would die violently then once Vegeta had what he needed and he would find his own ride after his mission was done. 

“If the concept of fucking me is inadequate to you, why am I here?” 

She squeaked with alarm, shook her head quickly with widened eyes and then that was followed by some sort of quick-paced flapping with the hand not on her knee. 

“What happened to the eye-fucking from earlier?” He would kill her whole planet. 

“I never said you were inadequate; I just didn’t order s- erm- sass!” 

“Sass?!” Vegeta shot up, outraged by this tiny little human, “You just seized on your own tongue after bragging about what a genius you are! -and turned blushing pre-pubescent at the work you hired me for? What the fuck is the point, am I to be tortured with your insufferable nonsense for 3 days simply because you’re alone-" 

The hand that came across his face was slow and entirely avoidable, but as the words were rolling off of his tongue, Vegeta realized he was precisely right and he admitted, if only to himself, he deserved the slap. Wetness shimmered on her bottom lashes like diamonds but there was no humiliation there, just anger. Anger and a lot of loneliness. Maybe he could relate to that a little. 

“You don’t get to condescend me for keeping up important appearances meanwhile you’re the one getting paid for the service! No, I don’t want sex from you, you asshole; If you were the last man on Earth, I wouldn’t be fucking you this weekend!” She crossed her arms, rubbing the hand she hit him with on her bicep as if it ached, “I get that Frieza told you to probably show up and that was end-of, but there’s an entirely different point to what I need and if you can’t play nice, you can hitch a ride back home. You can call your boss from an Earth telecom to pick your sorry ass up or you can listen up and actually not be such a-ah- a bad man!” 

Maybe Vegeta was the butt end of another cruel humiliation; Zarbons recap panned out to fuck this girl until she didn’t have the energy to put her clothes back on and her little brain was nothing but endorphins. Vegeta had thought this was what she requested, obviously not. Fucking Frieza. Vegeta raised his brow in invitation for her to continue speaking. Failing a mission, regardless of how unorthodox, was unacceptable- especially if it was Zarbon who was trying to play him as a fool. 

Bulma took a deep breath and looked nervously at the seemingly normal motherboard readings, “A few years ago, before I became the CEO of Capsule Corps throughout this galaxy chain,” her folded arms dropped to cross over her belly; she held herself, “when I was young and dumb- well, not dumb, I’ve always been a total genius-" 

“The point!?" Vegeta interrupted 

“-yes, well, my ex sort of left me in the middle of the first big merger of our company with the planetary chain.” Bulmas eyes lost their luster, as she spoke, “He was a big baseball player, earned a lot of money going pro, and when Daddy and I decided to invest in this big crazy growth...” she gestured outward, “When we had no idea if our technology could match other planets let alone on a galactic level, we needed popular names to back us. Earth names. Our ample money meant nothing without notoriety.” 

Vegeta huffed while she collected herself. Watching the shift of her shorn hair fall forward and cover a little part of the vulnerability written on her face. She was alabaster with an ethereal blue glow but while she spoke of this betrayal, she looked grey and it was… uncomfortable, like she wasn’t meant to dim. Perhaps a humans dimmed in sadness. 

She sat and continued, hunched in on herself, “Anyway Yamcha and I were engaged and going to wed the weekend of the merge, I needed his whole team to back me, I needed his foot in the door of the sports world because it took up so much of the notoriety on Earth. As the merge was broadcasted on public television, his championship stock game with his own team was supposed to air on a local channel live. The team got carried away celebrating- they were only supposed to create some fun hi-jinks and gain some good laughs… instead, a news team aired my fiancée railing one of my bridesmaids who has a metal disability. It caught fire so quickly I actually had no idea it was happening until I was shaking the hand of the galactic science collective's chieftain and it wasn’t me up on the big screen anymore, but my fiancée’s ass- pants around his ankles.” 

Vegeta couldn’t fathom how a genius could pick such a worthless male, “What does this idiot parade have to do with this weekend?” 

“So much,” Bulma laughed bitterly, “the galactic science collective instantly withdrew their offer and every broad casting site within 50 planets watched me flail in front of a stadium screen of Yamcha banging my friend, obliviously drunk, from behind. My father tried to use our money, even tried to sell our signature capsule copywrite.” Bulma shook her little black case of capsulized luggage, “Instead they wanted me to live off planet with their best scientists for 5 Earth years. Anything I created was to belong to the good of the galaxy under their command and I had to create at least 5 ground breaking items. If I left.” 

Vegeta knew all too well about a father selling their child for power, “Who died for this? Did you kill your ex?” 

Frowning, Bulma finally looked at him, “Uhm, no, and no one? I made 16 incredible machines, one of which you’re standing in, and the galaxy gave me promotion after promotion. It’s been 7 long Earth years since I’ve been home and I couldn’t bring myself to go the last two years. Yamcha is a part of my friend group and I couldn’t make them chose over us. Now it’s my two best friends’ wedding renewal and I… I just don’t have another excuse to miss. My parents are hosting it for them and I miss them so much. Not to mention I have a few awards to receive because the chieftain of the Galactic Senate is coming to Earth too. I guess, for his own reasons.” 

“You got yourself in Frieza’s line of sight for a date?” Vegeta asked incredulously. 

Huffing Bulma spanned her hands, “Vegeta, I can't be seen as alone and broken down. That’s how this whole thing happened. Earth saw me leave as some court jester; the laughing stock; some whipping boy. How rich and how smart I was didn’t matter at all. I need you to show up and treat me like I’m golden! If you can't do it, fine, but I need to know now.” 

“I can do anything.” Vegeta sneered, “Tell me what else I need to know.” 

\-- 

By the time Vegeta and Bulma landed on Earth it was 9pm, it had taken exactly two hours and six minutes to land on Bulmas home rocket pad and the 6 minutes were Bulma laughing with watery eyes at the firework welcome home show her friends had put on. Telling Vegeta her shame took more out of her then she thought possible. It was public and old but the loneliness and near begging for understanding sucked all the same. He listened intently and asked all intelligent questions; however, she still feared her friends would be able to instantly tell he was no one she would pick. 

“Who the hell is that?!” Vegeta nearly pressed his nose to the glass as he looked down. 

“Which one?” Bulma asked beguilingly even though she had a pretty good idea who. 

“Him!” Vegeta pointed at the specs they were both looking at, “the one with the fucking ki over 9000!” 

“Ohh, yeah, that’s Goku, he’s one of the besties I was telling you about.” 

Bulma shifted gears to land casting a side long glance at Vegeta. He was hansom as all sin, dressed artfully, lathe and smart. Perfectly matched to her in all of the shallow ways the media would gobble up. If he kept quiet and only collaborated on her story; that they met a few months back and became a couple, this would go fine. He knew so much about her now that he’d be able to write a book- or fool her friends with some extra luck. She even learned his name, though only after semi-crying in front of him, so she didn’t count that as much of a win. 

As the landing door opened, Bulma had decent hope. She smiled once her gang came into view along with her father, yet didn’t take two steps before Vegeta stalked passed her bee-linging directly for Goku while pointing a finger in his chest, “Who the fuck are you?” 

The bunch stared in shock at Vegeta standing a foot shorter then Goku, his defined nose turned directly up at the strongest man on planet Earth. Bulma sent a silent thankyou to Kami that Goku was so good natured and hoped beyond hope that Vegeta was the exception to the rule in regards to the temperament of Saiyans. 

“I'm Goku.” Her best friend smiled, holding out a hand to shake, “You look pretty strong, do you work security for Bulma?” 

“Ha-ha,” The heiress rushed down the landing slat to Vegeta’s side, wedged her arm between his, and yanked at it, “Uhm, surprise, everyone, this is my boyfriend, Vegeta.” 

More stunned shock with a mix of nervous murmurs from her friends hurt Bulmas feelings more than anything else could have. Before she had a moment to hide her hurt the news telecasters started driving their hover crafts toward the landing zone. 

“Oh, don’t worry, my dear, I’ll start fending them off.” Dr. Briefs hastened away, determined to protect them from the reporters rather than hug his own child. 

Nausea rolled Bulmas stomach, she had no idea Vegeta would be angry that she knew another Saiyan. Why would he care? She thought since their race was so far and few in between this would have went over well. The drones passed Bulmas father and whizzed toward them even though he had corralled most of the news crew crafts. The disasters couldn’t even wait for her feet to hit Earth soil for two minutes. 

Her mother ‘You-Who'ed’ from the door way, waving them down for treats. 

Vegeta gave the drones a glance and smirked, “Goku,” he repeated, “The man renewing his vows. Did you know, Goku, that Goku is not a Sayian name.” 

“Really? Well, I guess it wouldn’t be,” Goku rolled his eyes skyward while he contemplated, “My grandpa found me crash-landed on Earth almost thirty years ago and named me after his own family when I was a baby.” 

A plethora of emotions seemed to race across Vegetas face, “Your real name would have been Kakarot.” 

Chichi nervously sidled closer to Goku during the awkward exchange while Eighteen and Krillen backed off a little. Bizzaro world didn’t seem close to ending. What if Bulma invited a foe to her planet and news casters were beating down her door. What would happen if Vegeta was strong like Goku and they didn’t get along at all? 

“Well, okay!” Goku laughed, “if that’s a real Saiyan name, I like it!” 

A trio of drones buzzed over all of their heads, flashing lights, their animatronic voices crackling horribly being so close in proximity that the questions they were asking were inaudible. Fear froze Bulma in place until a strong hand wrapped its self around the small of her waist, finding home on the curve of her hip. She felt her too-big eyes turn toward Vegeta while he tucked her under his thick shoulder. 

“Congratulations, Kakarot, on your renewal.” Vegetas other hand spanned Bulmas neck possessively, then gently traced up to her face in order to push her wind-blown hair back, “Bulma has insistently told me how excited she is for you and your wife.” 

Goku laughed and held Chichi similarly, his smile infecting her, “When we originally got married, it was quick and small and we had so much to do together then that Chichi never got a great big wedding.” 

“And now Gohan can even be the ring bearer!” Chichi smiled up at her husband before looking back at Bulma and Vegeta, “I'm really glad to see you happy, Bulma.” 

Krillen laughed, “Yeah, since her factory setting is battle-ready.” 

The men all snickered except Vegeta who stroked her hip in lazy, dangerous circles. Giving the droids a show that kept them quiet. 

“Hey,” Bulma swatted at Krillen who danced behind Eighteen laughing, “You shut your trap! Where is Gohan? I can't wait to see how he’s grown! Holo-calls just aren’t enough.” 

“Oh, he’s napping inside,” Chichi gave a vicious stink-eye at the droids before smiling back at her friends, “let’s all go in, Piccalo kind of got trapped by your mom when he last checked on Gohan.” 

“We’ll grab our bags and head right in,” Bulma turned back to the ship followed by Vegeta who stalked behind her like a panther with prey, crowding her space. 

As soon as they stepped in the ship and the screen door closed, she smacked his chest, “What the hell was all that with Goku?! Are you crazy?!” 

Bulma went to slap his pectorals again when he snatched her hand out of the air, “Smack me again and you’ll be a sorry little girl.” Vegeta ignored her indignant gasps, “You didn’t mention in the last two hours of your life story that you knew another fucking Saiyan.” 

“How dare you!” Blushing furiously, Bulma clenched her legs together and tried to yank her hand back, “And what does it matter what race anyone is? Two and half hours ago I didn’t even know you were a Saiyan, either!” 

Vegeta whirled her around to face the mother board so fast that Bulmas hands flew to the surface to keep from falling. She gasped unable to pay attention to the display lighting up. His hands slid up her thighs slowly, curving over her hips as if they were vipers snaking their way through sand. 

His breath fanned her ear, “Don’t test me.” 

Breathless, Bulma stammered at those snaking hands, “V-vegeta, w- you-!” 

He ran one hand down the length of her arm, his big, tapered fingers overshadowed her own smaller ones as he reached past her and grabbed her black purse. Bulma barely followed the motions as he gathered his own jacket and duffle along with the heels she kicked off and reopened the hatch. She stared at him dumbly while he waited for her to walk in the obvious path, he made for her. She could barely handle their things in such a familiar, intimate pose on his person. 

“Let’s go, Woman,” his smile was predatory and his dark eyes gleamed like a sharks. 

Bulma swallowed and pasted on her press-smile, waving at the drones as she made her way to the house. She paused, looking back for Vegeta to accompany her at her side, decidedly finding his particular brand of chaos far more comforting than any front she could put on alone. The next few days were coming one way or another, she might as well figure out how to enjoy them. 

\- 

The friends came and went a few hours before while leaving an itinerary for the next 3 days and Vegeta noticed Bulma start to drag. She couldn’t eat and barely drank yet here they stood on the veranda in the midnight hours for the press. Vegeta smiled viciously at each camera Bulma was directed to look at, his venomousness growing not with each idiotic and boring question about her ex they asked, but with each quick-witted, equally vicious retort she gave them keeping the perfect professionalism they wanted to flap. The girls ship worked and she was stronger intellectually then most, even if she was weak physically. Perhaps she was smarter than even Frieza realized. 

Or worse; Frieza did realize. 

“-does your sudden-I mean, new, boyfriend do?” The snottiest reporter with the thick shoulders and the most bleached hair asked Bulma as if Vegeta wasn’t directly next to her and couldn’t be trusted to answer himself. 

He nearly thought he snarled allowed, however, it was Bulma doing the snarling, “Vegeta, my boyfriend, can answer his own questions, Ms. Weston, and since you were so rude as to speak over him, I suggest you apologize to him and redirect your question his way, or that was the last question anyone is getting from me before we leave planet next week.” 

Vegeta smirked, staring down his nose at the bitch with the microphone. She stammered and her compatriots savagely forced her to reconsider. 

“Fine!” she whisper-snapped at the man with the camera shoving her forward before she finished her pout and glared up at Vegeta, “So sorry, Bageta, please forgive my wording, I was unaware if you spoke our language since I’ve never heard of you before. Now, what do you do, again?” 

The rush of angry red up Bulmas neck flushed her whole face, and Vegeta was nearly stricken. She would protect those who were hers and for this odd little space of time that apparently encompassed him. It was the only stupid he could see in her; genuine goodness was naivety. Vegeta needed no such protection. 

Keeping his eyes on the harpy woman while pressing one hand to Bulmas knotted neck, he took the Capsule Corps microphone out of the air in front of their faces, “No.” 

Everyone quieted including Bulma, all seemingly confused. 

It made Vegeta smile quirk up to one corner; he elaborated, “I don’t forgive your wording. Better hope Miss Briefs, here, does decide to speak to any of you again before we leave planet.” 

Cruel amusement gleamed in Bulmas eyes, taking away some of the tiredness, she took the mic back and turned it off. The mass of reporters finally snapped out of their daze and started shouting for another moment of Bulmas time but she did as Vegeta bade and allowed the Capsule Corps security to handle the pushy vultures. Bulma chucked as they walked toward her house for the second time. 

“Now that," The heiress hiked her thumb in the general direction of the harpy reporter still screaming, outraged, “was fun.” 

Vegeta held the door open for her into the kitchen, quite possibly high on the endorphin-shot he got from controlling this woman. In the back of his head, he reprimanded himself for enjoying the job. Bulma would more than likely perish with her planet quite soon. Bulmas mother, Pancha also known as Bunny had cleaned the feast she made. A pity, he could go for seconds. 

Bulmas father followed after them into the house, as well. 

“What a wonderful turn of events, my dear boy!” The small, wrinkled man stated, “Now off you go to bed, the two of you! Bulma, my dear, I had your bed upgraded for you and your gentlemen here.” 

Her eyes bugged as Vegeta watched, his ire rising anew, “What! DADDY! I- ! I liked my bed!” 

“Now, dear, I ordered the same brand but a strapping young man like this would never have fit on it.” He bustled them forward toward where Bulmas room may have been. 

Vegeta figured he’d come back for his duffle after they got rid of her father. The man wasn’t what Vegeta was expecting, but then, nor was her mother. They weren’t cruel, just vapid and certainly not vigilant. How could they not know their daughter was lying about Vegeta? Bulma may well have come out far saner than anyone else could have with them as parents. Loneliness and children didn’t work well together. 

“Dad, Vegeta was going to sleep in a guest bedroom,” Bulma gave him distinct eyes, “Right, Honey? Because you know how awkward it would be for my parents to think we’re sleeping in the same bed, right?” 

Before Vegeta could speak her father boomed, “Nonsense! Your mother and I know you’re a full-grown woman! You always did lead your own life! We want you two comfortable!” 

Vegeta capsized, “We won’t waste any more time, then. Good night.” 

“Good, I had all of your things brought up and unpacked.” Smiling, the man kissed Bulmas cheek while she still stuttered and closed them in the room together. 

Fishing up her dropped jaw Bulma went to smack Vegetas arm, obviously remembered his warning in the rocket and blushed before twirling away to stomp toward the bathroom door of the room. She glared at him one final time with pink defusing her cheeks before smacking the bathroom door open and proceeding to run water. 

Vegeta enjoyed that more then he should have and had to refrain from stalking in behind her. 

His smile fell. 

Enjoying Bulma was not a part of his legitimate mission. Her breakthroughs in weaponized science were what Frieza was after and if Vegeta could learn the capsize and bring them to Frieza without Bulma being ever the wiser that would be exactly to the tee what was required of him. Frieza should never have knowledge like this little tiny woman was capable of and hopefully what she had in her home would be enough for Frieza to forget he ever heard mention of her, but Bulma Briefs was not a concern of Vegetas. 

That and Raditz’s little brother living his days out on Earth as a carefree human with no tail was another problem Vegeta wouldn’t be facing this lifetime. Vegeta was nearing enough resources to get himself away from Frieza- so that he could train hard enough to come back and destroy the monster once and for all, in name of his own people. This Earthling and her inhuman friends were nothing to Vegetas endgame. 

He stalked around the room, checking through drawers and doors for intel. It was overflowing with girly paraphernalia and science equipment / notes. Some of the tween had met with lipstick mathematics on paper napkins smudged with age and cracking or lingerie wrapped in machines as if they were makeshift pullies. Clothes littered every closed and open space and jewelry or bolts spotted the room. The pink hue was lit dimly by unnecessary string lights everywhere and it took a full 10 minutes for Vegeta to find his duffle bag neatly sitting atop a new looking dresser next to the right side of the very large platform bed. It was the only clear area in the room, however Vegeta couldn’t have seen it over the mountain of pillows and stuffed animals atop the bed until he circled it. He imagined the innards of her mind were quite the same as the area and he would have to stick close to her to puzzle out what he needed. 

The mission was far more intrinsic then he originally thought and would require all of Vegetas patience as well as self-control. He would have to pretend he was gentlemanly, social, and- if everyone he met so far was any clue- partially brain dead. All of which was beneath him, however, possible for a short period. 

Bulma reappeared out of the bathroom in a silky cerulean negligee without makeup or shoes, “Since you obviously were probably too scared to sleep alone, you big baby, you can have that side of the bed. Don’t touch me, don’t poke me -with anything, and you can’t have any of my pillows.” 

Vegeta watched her haughtily hog 12 pillows onto her side of the bed before shuffling all of the stuffed animals onto his. Apparently, several blankets spanned the throw up of fuzzy mess because she yanked one out to roll into and turned her back to him. Annoyed for no real reason Vegeta swiped everything off of the bed, bunched two blankets into pillows just because the rustling noise seemed to annoy her and set himself up with his own blanket to wrap in. 

Those blue eyes turned in time to watch him shuck his shirt for the night and whatever she was going to say lodged in her throat. 

“Cat got your tongue?” He bated her. 

His shoes and pants came down and his under armor was last to be removed. 

“Vegeta, your scars.” She breathed, making him feel naked. 

“They’re none of your concern.” 

She snorted, “They aren’t anyone else’s concern, you mean.” She turned her head to her wall of windows in the pitch black, “Command, lock down every window in the house. Nothing is to see in unless someone living here wishes it so.” 

Disarmed, Vegeta watched the windows slide shut, and was struck with the thought that the nicest thing anyone had done for him was shut a fucking window so his mutilation wouldn’t be witnessed without his consent, “That wasn’t necessary.” 

“Oh, right,” She added, snapping her fingers in the air, oblivious to the roller coaster she wracked on him, “Command, update the entire computer security system with Vegeta in it. Do as he says on security level 4." 

“Security level 4?” He asked, his curiosity again, peeked. 

“Yeah,” She nodded, “means you’re a guest of the house; you can say things like warm the room by a few degrees, increase oxygen, dim or shut the lights or tv, have something cooked, start the hover car or any number of things.” A soft, tired smile, “okay, Command, lights off, sound dampeners on. Set alarm for 8:30am.” 

Vegeta nodded, setting himself up to lay in Bulmas bed, finding for the first time the intimacy of their situation awkward while the lights slowly extinguished. 

“Thank you for coming with me, Vegeta,” Bulma shimmied over a pillow to touch his arm, “You can use this.” 

Vegeta took the pillow and set it under his head. “I should get half the pillows. Not one.” 

“You're such a hog!” She fluffed her pillow harsher than necessary, as if wishing it was him she was beating up, “Go to bed, Vegeta! Good night!”


	2. Where the Wild Things Play BaseBall

CHAPTER 2 Where the Wild Things Play BaseBall  
Bulma Jack-knifed into the air at the blaring alarm. Heart racing, she stood atop her new (heavenly) mattress, chest heaving and eyes adjusting to the muted light. What year is it? Emptiness met her when her gaze shot to where Vegeta was to be sleeping.  
Where the Hell? A spike of jealously shot through her system for absolutely no reason and Bulma decided to lock that shit down. Jealous? Of what? Vegeta being awake before her? Someone else nabbing him up? Please. He was a walking cactus once he opened his mouth no matter how sexy he was. She just didn’t want to be last awake. That’s all. Really.  
Grumbling to herself and glaring daggers at the alarm clock Bulma wound her way through old, outdated paraphernalia to the bathroom for her shower, “Command, add, ‘Bulma’s Room,’ to the maid service today.”  
Had she known Vegeta would be parking himself under her wall of boyband worship, she would have had her room torched. After her shower, Bulma capsuled Vegetas bag, left it on the dresser, and picked out an easy sleeveless red romper with a white chunky oversized belt and white cork-wedge heels. For later, a floppy matching wicker sunhat from her floor was grabbed and she found white sunglasses on a counter. Red lipstick would complete her outfit.  
Chi-Chi’s last fitting and Bulma’s only fitting would be today and they would follow over to the park with the nice lake on the other side of West City for lunch (Eighteen’s idea to keep the paparazzi off Bulma’s tail.) She had one important meeting in the evening with the rehearsal dinner at night. Excitement clashed with sadness in her heart of hearts. As if anything was better planned for her Friday evening with her fake boyfriend? Tomorrow, Saturday, would be an easy morning with the totally not-secret bachelorette party, and then finally Sunday… Sunday was the big day. Excitement would win, damn it.  
The scent of coffee roped Bulma into the kitchen.  
“- As if anyone four-foot-eight had any business finding Dragon Ball Eggs! But no matter what they faced, my Bulma never shied away. With Goku as the muscle and Bulma as the mind, they protected their friends, family, and even Earth! The only thing she couldn’t overcome was that little Nimbus cloud-"  
“MOM!” Bulma barked as she rounded the corner, mortified to the scene before her.  
Vegeta sat at the kitchen table, dishes askew with stains and scraps stacked around him. Pictures of the heiress' youth were scattered amongst the condiments. Her mother was sitting directly next to him as if, had he invited Bunny, she’d have sat on his shoulder and chipped nonsense in his damned ear. Vegeta, however, was focused, elbows on the table, knuckles under his chin, on those pictures. ‘Was,’ being the key word. The deep onyx of his gaze slowly made it’s way up to Bulma with unreadable intensity and she wanted to force him to tell her what he was thinking.  
“Can we not with the baby pictures!?” Bulma lamented instead, stomping over to the table, “Where did all of those…? These aren’t mine."  
She lifted one up, a picture of herself as a spritely teenager in pink posing over the head of her tiny cohort, Goku, with the dirt of the day and baby chub coloring him happy. Oolong was laughing, pointing at a soaked Paur. She ran her fingers over the glossy paper with a pang of nostalgia. She had missed them; all of them. Even Oolong. Lord, she was lonely.  
“Yamcha dropped them off a few years ago, in a box, Dear,” Her mother explained helpfully to Vegeta, “Yamcha is Bulmas well-to-do ex-boyfriend. They parted on bad terms-"  
“Thank you, he knows!” Bulma cut her mother off, “Can you please make some catering arrangements to bring to the park for later to feed everyone?”  
“Oh, of course!” Bunny bounced out of her seat and Bulma took it to shuffle all of the pictures from under Vegeta nose haphazardly.  
One lone photograph was pinched between Vegetas fingers while he sipped coffee. His eyebrow cast up at her when she finished grabbing her coffee. He turned it so she could see the Bunny-cosplay she had been given one time when she had nothing else to wear by the Grand Pervert, Roshi.  
“OhMyKami!" Bulma lurched over to rip it from his fingers as if it were on fire and proceeded to slam it into the trash, “Enjoy your morning story time?!”  
“Yes.” Was all Vegeta said.  
Ready to rip into him, more because she was embarrassed then he did anything wrong, Bulma paused when she heard feminine voices pour through the front of the house. Chi-Chi rounded the corner ushered by Bulmas father with Eighteen, Goku, Picolo and Krillen in the back of them. They were all chattering their ‘hellos,’ and ‘good mornings.’  
Bulma smiled, “Everyone excited?”  
Chi-Chi laughed nervously, “A part of me feels like I’m wasting money. What am I doing, having a whole wedding? I had a son and life already.”  
Goku wrapped an arm around her shoulders, directing her to sit at the table near the food, “I think Gohan will really like being a part of this one.”  
Vegeta unobtrusively stood to refill his coffee mug while the boys hunkered down to eat. Eighteen sidled up to Bulma with a smirk and Piccolo took Vegetas seat once he declined to sit.  
“We'll have to take two separate cars.” Krillen stole Bulmas mug from the table and sipped it.  
“Hey!” Bulma snarked.  
“Where's Gohan?” Bunny bustled over with more trays of food.  
Krillen gave Bulma an unabashed grin from across the table and she stuck her tongue out at him as a new mug, warm and creamy was pressed into her hands. She looked up and smiled at Vegeta gratefully, not unaware he didn’t make fun of her baby photos nor was he mean to her mother. He kept surprising her.  
“With my father,” Chi-Chi fished her keys out of her purse, “We can't stay to eat; Bulma, your sister said she would meet us at the bridal shop and the four of you,” the bride directed her attention to the men, “You’re headed directly across town to the men’s shop after you're done! I want to set up at the park with Dad by one.”  
“We better bring water,” Eighteen shuffled a few out of the fridge when Bulma handed her a capsule.  
“Four?” Bulma asked, confused.  
“Yeah,” Goku answered around a full mouth of food, directing his attention to Vegeta as well, “I’d like to invite you to be in the wedding party; I’ve never met another Saiyan before and I can tell you and I could challenge each other in a ring for a long time coming. "  
Bulma panicked; held her breath and nearly fainted while everyone else's easy commotion continued on. It was so like Goku to simply invite a stranger into his fold with all of the trust in the world. Goku could handle himself but apart of Bulma wanted to protect him from the thug she had met yesterday in the muscle hovercraft. Another part of her wanted to protect the thug from Goku as well. She watched Vegeta, begging him with her eyes to be kind to her best friend; willing him to look at her but Vegetas eyes never left Goku.  
“I accept your invite.” He conceded steadily.  
A breath puffed out of Bulmas lungs and she almost lost balance. Chi-Chi was handing her capsules and her coffee was taken out of her hand but she saw Gokus rare anticipation when Vegeta accepted; it shocked her to realize they could become unusual friends. Eighteen kissed Krillen goodbye and Goku questioned Chi-Chi about not eating.  
Vegeta turned Bulma to himself and she quickly apologized, “I didn’t know you would have to go to the fittings.”  
He stepped closer, curling a lose cerulean tendril of hair behind her ear, the shock of the intimacy absolutely thrilled her, “You can pay for it later.”  
Mr Briefs scuttled in with keys hanging from a blue fluff, “Why don’t you use your wheels, M'Dear?”  
Gokus eyes lit, “Bulma, can I borrow your car!?”  
“Boys in Bulmas car!” Krillen pumped his fist.  
Bulma whipped around catching Chi-Chi’s eye, they both shouted, “Goku doesn’t drive!”  
Vegeta snagged the blue ball of fluff not unlike the color of Bulmas hair, “I’ll drive.”  
“Shot gun.” Piccolo stood, skirting Eighteen to reach over for Bunnys fresh muffins.  
“Thank you, Mr Briefs!” Chi-Chi grabbed Bulmas hand and hustled her towards the door, she whisper-shouted, “Let's go or we’ll never leave!”  
-  
Eighteen palmed the wheel of her Jeep into the parking lot of the bridal store and Bulma smirked, hopping out while leaving her best friends to park. She rushed forward and strutted into the store front demanding attention. Her sister didn’t beat them there, which Bulma enjoyed.  
“Party of four,” Bulma ratcheted forward on her hips, “Under Briefs.”  
The room scattered into motion, ready to dote on the brides every need. Bulma grinned peering out the window to see Chi-Chi and Eighteen scuttling up with her sister in-tow.  
Tights entered the store, still speaking backward to Eighteen when she turned her attention and froze. A burn blushed Bulmas face and her throat tightened but neither of them shed tears; they were too strong. Tights shouted and jumped Bulma with a bear hug and Bulma laughed. It had been years that the two heiresses were in the same room at the same time for anything but work and Bulma missed Tights, maybe even more then her friends. Tights was the explorer of the family who paved the way for Bulma to even reach out to extra-terrestrial life.  
Today would be such needed fun.  
-  
Vegeta bit back a snarl as the tiny human male reached forward for the second time to change the radio station. The Nemkkian snarked backward and the clown giggled like an idiot. One would think they were all intoxicated. Vegeta took the left hand turn on a pinpoint shuffling the backseat passengers like cards.  
“Where’d you learn to drive?” Krillen griped.  
“Where seatbelts were invented." He quipped vindictively.  
The lot for the store was pointed out by a long green finger and Vegeta had the car parked fast enough to crumple the backseat one more time. He smirked to himself once out of the driver's side and crossed his arms while waiting. Being invited into the wedding party foiled Vegetas plan to search the home, however, tonight he would have more time. He couldn’t have said no without seeming off-putting and although snarling at these animals was what he would have normally done, this particular job  
“Boy, I think I’m gonna be sick.” The tiny one hobbled forward, looking just as green as the Nemikkien. “Maybe we should all fly to the park after?”  
“Looks like the girls are over at the bridal store already- GOKU; don’t look!” The Nemmiken huffed.  
Kakarot laughed, walking toward the doors of a fancy Earthling men’s clothing shop, covering half of his face from the dress boutique across the street, “I forgot! Bulma made the reservations. So, we would all be near each other.”  
Krillen grinned while they all walked forward, “If it’s under Bulmas name we’ll be taken care of real nice! Hey did anyone mention to her about Yamcha meeting us all at the park?”  
Vegetas ears pricked while side stepping the open door. Exploitable information lay beneath the conversation, so long as the prince not raise any flags, he might be able to use it. The other males looked cowed; Bulma apparently was far scarier to a Saiyan with a fighting level of over 9000 then one would think.  
“Well, I kind of thought Chi-Chi would tell her…” Kakarot said while a staff member came to their group.  
The Nemekkian tsked, “She’s your best friend; you should have let her know.”  
The small one laughed out loud, “Good luck telling Bulma anything she doesn’t want to hear. I’d rather eat nails.”  
“Yamcha is Bulmas ex,” the clown explained to Vegeta; as if Vegeta was as simple as the idiot himself, “they broke up a while back.”  
Before Vegeta could snarl at Kakarot the staff member arrived, “Good morning, gentlemen, do we have an appointment?”  
“Under Briefs.” Vegeta snapped, taking point to move the on-goings along.  
As if dollar signs appeared in the man's eyes, he hopped to attention and took care to call his cohorts. The six men waiting on them reminded Vegeta of another time in another life where his name was revered on planet Vegeta as Bulmas was on Earth. The new idiot bunch surrounding him would have been peons in his world.  
He would have to grit his teeth and bare this indignity of being forced to assimilate with them until he was allotted his time off after this mission. Freiza would never know he read the ancient texts explaining how to reach Super Saiyan because when Vegeta found them on an after-mission cool down poker game at that last back-water planet, he had destroyed them with the incineration of said planet. He simply had to use Bulma for her inventions, provide what was available to Freiza, and be awarded his off-rotation time so that he could quickly become what his royal blood was destined to be. And once he was strong enough, he would erase the monster from existence.  
As long as he survived this annoying circus act.  
It made him uncomfortable to think of Bulma in Freizas crosshairs, however, his resolve would have to tighten. Vegeta's eyes crossed through the window and over at the bridal store. If it was him or her, Vegeta would have to pick himself as he always had before.  
Surely.  
-  
Chi-Chi looked like a princess in her gown, Bulma was able to fit (tightly) into the bride's maid dress so long as she didn’t dare wear a bra or panties, and the four of them may have cried a little after Bulma swore off the light night snacking. However, the rollercoaster of emotions left them all famished.  
The park was big enough to section off a large area where Tights was able to set up some last-minute perimeter and Eighteen to set up a few fun games. The food came in on trucks Pancha cleared for Chi-Chi near the tables Eighteen and Krillin had set out the night before and the view of the little shimmering lake water filtering around was perfect. Music fluttered through the air from one of the trucks, probably thanks to Tights.  
“My baby girl!” The sound bombed like thunder alerting everyone to the Ox Kings arrival.  
Chi-Chi ran over to meet him and along that line of site Bulma and Eighteen saw Roshi and Oolong make their way over, too. Eighteen never left her spot next to Bulma but her face brightened alerting Bulma to the boys arrival. She turned in time to see Tien and Chou Sue walking up talking with Goku. Piccolo was greener then usual and Krillin seemed to be not far behind in color. Vegeta, had walked in apart from the group of men, arms folded, ignoring them, head high. It pulled at Bulmas heart strings because she often walked like that. Mainly when she was her loneliest.  
Goten wrapped his arms around Bulmas middle and she hugged him back, “Look at you! So big now! How come I didn’t notice this last night?”  
He grinned wide, the tooth missing to one side adding to his innocents, “I think I was crumbled up from falling asleep in all those couch cushions.”  
Bulma laughed, remembering the image of the boy curled up in her couch and made her way over to Vegeta. She introduced Gohan properly. Piccolo cleared his throat behind them, Gohan seemed to remember his manners, and gave a proper bow. Vegeta allowed the child his moment and then stepped into Bulmas space.  
Wrapping an arm around the small of her back entirely encompassing her waist Vegeta got even closer. She thought he might be shorter than her but, in her flats, she seemed so much smaller than him in every delicious way. Her hands capped his shoulders and when she would have pulled away, he breathed into her ear to take his lead. There must have been cameras around that she didn’t notice and she chastised herself for it; she knew better then to let her guard down just for some fun. She wouldn’t ruin Chi-Chi's time.  
But oh, how much she missed adventure and fun.  
That thick forearm slid and Vegeta's hand brushed her ribcage causing her to giggle and pull back, “Vegeta, I’m ticklish!” When he didn’t move, she looked up at his face and thought he might be bewildered. It was such a funny notion that she patted his hand where it lay motionless under her breast, “Y'know, when you catch a person in a spot that makes them uncontrollably laugh?” The blush that crept up her face stopped her from admitting that such touches were an intimacy to most because it didn’t seem like Vegeta really knew what she was talking about.  
And then the world shifted: Paur had made her way into Bulmas field of vision seconds before they all heard Yamcha calling after his little blue sidekick. The flying cat laughed at something until she noticed Bulma peeking over Vegetas shoulder. Unfortunately, Yamcha seemed to see the same thing.  
“Oh Kami, oh Kami,” Bulma squeezed that same hand that a light-year ago tickled her ribs, took a deep breath and disentangled herself from Vegeta to march forward.  
Yamcha looked pained; he took a step back like he always would when Bulma hit war-path mode but accepted his due. Which was the correct thing to do, in Bulmas opinion. However, it still pissed her off. She cranked her jaw so that her teeth showed and studiously ignored her friends who had all gone blank and dumb while watching her.  
“Hello, Yamcha.” She offered her date up, sacrificially, “This is my new boyfriend, Vegeta. We do big things together. All of the time.” Then Bulma tried to yank him back, but when that didn’t work, she stepped forward, hands on her hips, “Adventures like you wouldn’t believe. Hope all is well with you too, by the way.”  
Glee, pure and uncut shot through Bulmas system as Yamcha eyed Vegeta as if the Saiyan was pressing his face to a window pane and rubbing his nose around it disrespectfully. Bulma almost hoped that was the case-and almost-almost checked to see, but this was important. She wanted Yamcha to squirm. She would be taken seriously and she would demand respect. The fact that her ex could even hold eye contact for 3 seconds with this prince was impressive- let alone make eye contact with her. Yamcha looked away, a blush burning his neck. Bulma smirked. He took a second to look at Paur then back at Bulma with a soft, sad smile.  
And that nearly made Bulma step backward in return.  
“I'm ….” He rubbed a hand over his hair and seemed to change his mind, “I'm-well. Doing good and can't complain.”  
Shocked, she blinked, “That’s it? That’s what you say to me?!”  
Vegetas arm encircled her waist again, his other dragging her arm over his neck backward to get her attention, he breathed into her ear, “Time to go.”  
Being held back by Eighteen and Krillen, Tights yelled some pretty colorful suggestions at Yamcha. At that moment Goku, Roshi and Chi-Chi had hustled over, getting between the ex-couple. The feeling of being cheated resonated. More friends poured forward and then Oolong yelled out that the food trucks were readily set. Less than a glance was given by Yamcha as soon as he had other things to focus on.  
A rough hand jerked her face, forcing her to pay attention, “Stop staring longingly after that jackass. Now.” Annoyed Bulma tried to pull away, earning Vegetas other rough hand to scoop her ass forward so that her pelvis hit his own, “He's the sniveling coward type; cameras could be placed on his person, watching you directly. Have more pride.”  
“I have plenty of pride!” Bulma snarled, deciding to turn the tables on at least one man, if not the world. She gave a wispy moan and then she thrust her hand into his hair and ground her pelvis against Vegetas; happy to see that it shocked the hell out of him, “In fact, what you're misinterpreting as love-sick is anything but, Buddy. I’m just so horny now that I realize how longs it's been, I even contemplated going back to the sex shop next store to the bridal boutique.”  
Entirely caught off guard, Vegetas face burned red, the inaudible sounds he tried to get out revving Bulmas engine, “Are you daft?! You barely know me!”  
She whispered, “Did anyone ever tell you how hard your muscles are?” His eyes widened and shot around to make sure she wasn’t heard, she was sure.  
“Disgusting!” He tried to add feeling to his words but Bulma knew depravity when she saw it; it was in her mirror every day, “You c-can't be so-“  
“Oh, but Vegeta, it’s been soo long; I sometimes wonder if I’d be too tight to- well, you know.” She whispered it and leaned so that her breasts were pressed into his chest, happy that her friends were busy for the moment.  
He panted, “I do not know-"  
“Hold out past a thrust or two,” She didn’t miss a beat, “before I just gushed all over some poor guys big, throbbing-” she moaned and then disengaged all physical contact, “Too bad I said I wouldn’t fuck you this weekend even if you were the last man on Earth. Looks like were both wound pretty tight.”  
If she looked back, Bulma wondered would the prince be standing? Knowing better then to look, she kept moving forward until she was near Gohan and Piccolo who were grabbing food. It wasn’t nice to punish the man who was her lifeline at this current situation but she also rewarded Vegeta, too. Or at least she certainly enjoyed teasing him. She was thrilled at the sexual want he locked up so tight. Bulma had always been a creature of enjoyment and it was damned time she got back to feeling that way. It was way more of a reward when Bulma thought about it. One he deserved for saving her from the cameras she hadn't seen, and two saving her form the fool she almost made out of herself in front of Yamcha. Although. .  
Vegeta didn't mention cameras until after Yamcha had arrived, had he requested she. Follow his lead to spare her from Yamcha? ..  
\--  
Pulsing blood flow was all Vegeta could process for the little while after he flew off. The burn on his face humiliating. The beating of his unsteady heart against his ribs was his own punishment for trying to help that little blue-eyed siren. This was the reason behind the warning lure of such beasts. Could humans copulate with Siren? Were they on this planet?  
Yet he had baited her for this exactly, did he not? For her to direct her rage and hurt at him instead of that grease stain of a human male. The bald midget suddenly became the golden standard if other humans were like Bulma’s ex. Vegeta wouldn’t even bother to read such ki.  
An uneasy surprise dawned on Vegeta when he realized he… he would do the same again if it meant to save Bulma’s pride. Hard-on gone and breathing normal, Vegeta promised himself to never revisit what that wretched heiress had dared utter in broad daylight- at least not until the dark veiled him.  
He checked around the edges of the park and when the hour mark was getting close to passing, he decided to return even though he had barely a moment to think without the incessant wild chatter clanging around with sloppy, loud, crossing points. He could hear them across the miles of water, even. Why did everyone want to speak with one another if they lived together? Not one person addressed one subject for more than seconds before hopping into another conversation, middle or end with another person. Chaos.  
“I brought baseball gear; who wants to play?!” The ex yelled louder then Kakarots wife-if that were possible- and cheers abounded.  
The only voice missing was Bulmas. Vegeta rightened his tail and corrected his hair before slipping up behind her. Another glanced perimeter check gave no indication of drone-cameras or suspicious little glares in open windows, however, Vegeta told himself he couldn’t be perfectly sure and therefore connected himself to Bulma by encircling her hips while keeping his body back from her own by a few inches.  
Jumping at the contact, Bulma gave a guilty, grateful look over her shoulder and Vegeta noted her eyes had been glued to her ex. Jealousy boiled his blood and he consciously had to keep from yanking her closer. This was a business deal; Vegeta worked for her, was not her lover to be spurred.  
And yet…  
“Stop looking at your ex like a starving dog.” He whispered it vehemently, knowing she would be outraged, “I do not repeat myself often. I walk the fuck out right now; after ruining your little façade.”  
She jumped out of his reach, rounding on him, her color high and eyes all but glittering poison, “You wouldn’t dare! Freeza-"  
“Freeza would love to know that you’re a little peon, push-over; easy to control. That would be exactly why I would abort this mission.” He gave her his best haughty stare, “I don’t perform tricks like your clown friends do under flashing lights. This isn’t magic; get ready to sell us as a couple or get your big sad eyes pressed against the next lens you see hoping for a scrap of Yamchas attention.”  
Snapping her spine straight, Bulma turned an even darker red, she stomped then scream-whispered, “You’re such a jerk!”  
“Regardless.” He caught the whirring before the drone cleared the lean building it sat behind; he snapped his hand out, “There isn’t a better company to be had here then mine.”  
He pulled Bulma forward with her chin in his hand, pitching her on her toes in order to catch her into a kiss just as flashing started going off. Public affection was asinine but tabloids happened to be galactically universal; he knew such displays would solidify Bulmas image as she needed. She bit his lip and he chuckled into the punishment with relish. Nothing seemed to make this woman back down but damn did he enjoy riling her up. This was different then he got to be; different then he would ever be able to act in any other circumstance.  
In another time and another place he was sure he wouldn’t have been able to play this pretend game that sat so ill with him. Bulma didn’t notice the slip in this particular poker face. At least her attention regarding the new round of news crews would force her to behave.  
He didn’t know that he would have ever placed his blood stained hands on her in any other version of this word. If he would be able to kiss her and portray such emotional promotions.  
“Hey, Vegeta! Want to go against me?” Goku asked from next to Bulmas idiot ex, both of them wearing matching mesh blue vests, “I’d love to see you hit what I throw!”  
“Vegeta and I wouldn’t be on your team if you paid us!” Bulma proclaimed.  
Yamcha laughed a bit too loudly, “Well I know you aren’t from here; but this happens to be my sport so don’t feel bad if-"  
“I couldn’t be bothered to care.” The prince was already dragging Bulma passed the two, “Just get ready.”  
\--  
Roaring drowned out the sound in Bulmas ears as she shrugged into the pink mesh vest Chi-Chi was holding out to her. Oolong was currently attempting to convince Roshy to take off his turtle shell and Puar was flitting around dropping colored magnets into a makeshift diamond that would be easy to follow. The cheer squad was mainly the ox king, gohan, oolong and apparently Korin. Piccolo seemed to be deemed umpire. And Bulma banished Tights from getting to close to her and Vegeta after her sister had decidedly become obsessed with Vegeta knowing every annoying thing Bulma did since she was able to walk.  
“-to Bulma.” Eighteen stood in front of Bulma, concern flickering across her icy eyes, “If you cant…”  
Plastering on her media smile, she strove for cheery, “Oh, I’m so down. I want to cream son-Goku’s team.”  
The guise was feeble at best, but Eighteen pretended all was well. They both knew the media droids hovering the outskirts were tabloid-grade and any iota of weakness would be splashed about as drama-supreme news. Not something Bulma needed before her big meeting with her boss. Not something Chi-Chi needed before her wedding, either.  
“Looks like Goku is going easy on us with Krillen, Yamcha, Yajarobi and Paur.” Eighteen joked then gasped under her breath, “Oh, my, Bulma; what big- teeth he has.”  
Brow furrowed Bulma turned to her friend inquiringly and followed that gaze to Vegeta in his black slacks and turtleneck then that vibrant pink mesh. He held a bat over her shoulder like a weapon instead of sports equipment and his scowl was so menacing that she felt her internals shiver. Eighteen wasn’t wrong about that gasp one little bit.  
“Oh, Honey,” She grinned with wicked intent, “Goku has no idea what’s gonna hit him with Vegeta on our team.”  
From behind a building sputtered along a large telecasting prompt. It stopped just within too-close range, whirring above, then a screen popped up in order for the displaced news crew to shout questions unasked down at then. Chi-Chi and Eighteen scowled up as Roshy joined Vegeta in surrounding Bulma, all of them wearing matching pink mesh. The screen scanned her friends and, with all of the aggravation in the planet, passed over the beautiful, genius billionaire who hasn’t been on planet for near a decade to fan-girl over at Yamcha.  
“Mr. Rekishiyoma! Yamcha!” The screen anchor woman squeed, “Thank you for this fabulous opportunity!”  
“Opportunity?!” Bulma and Chi-Chi growled at the same time.  
Those little drones that kept flitting about like gnats were this big ones worker bees. Tights kept the security together until Yamcha apparently invited the fucking queen to the party. What luck.  
“Oh yeah, no problem, anything for a fan!” Yamaha was blushing while encompassing his team of blue mesh shirts, “These are my good friends and this is just a friendly game for old times sake.”  
Yamcha continued speaking while Bulma thought she grew devil horns and a possible forked tongue. Would using the Dragon Balls to wish a eunech lifestyle on someone count as a sin? Probably not, if she phrased it correctly.  
Tights stomped over, “The nerve of him; after all I went through to keep those fuckers out!”  
Eighteen crossed arms, her calm demeanor negated the other women’s tempers “He has no idea what we’ve been doing to keep media away or any effect he has on anyone other then himself.”  
Chi-Chi blushed, “We never told him you never came home, Bulma. He doesn’t know what’s been going on. As far as he knows, you’re just outside of his circle and he’s doing his best to act regular after a stupid mistake.”  
Bulma deflated while the blue team geared up in their spots on the field. Vegeta stuck close to Bulmas back and Rosh called first at bat. The telecaster promised to stay out of range and Bulma accepted her fate; she couldn’t hide and she couldn’t have today with just her friends Eighteen pressed a supportive hand to her arm and took second. Tights was on telecaster duty.  
“I’m so sorry, Chi-Chi.” Bulma smiled at her friend, “I didn’t think I’d make your day all about me when I planned to come out. I’m sorry you have to put up with all this.”  
“Watching Yamcha squirm under your hunky boyfriends glower is a highlight,” Chi-Chi cackled handing Bulma a water bottle to hydrate, “Don’t feel bad at all. I miss these shenanigans more then I can ever tell you. Hey did I tell you? Son didn’t know we had to dance for our wedding?”  
Grateful for the change in subject she found her interest peaked, “Oh yeah? I can’t imagine he danced at the first one.”  
“Typical.” The prince chimed in, his forearms crossed.  
“He did not.” Chi-Chi agreed, “And only one lesson was left for tomorrow morning, say how much do you miss us really, ol'buddy, ol'pal?”  
Shocked the heiress tried to backpedal, “I-I do miss you guys but dancing- gosh"  
Vegeta barely paid them attention, “Why not use the dragon ball eggs your mother was on about this morning. Make the idiot dance and be done with it.”  
Chi-Chi gave a mean look, “Goku doesn’t need a wish to learn to dance- and he’s not an idiot!”  
“The Dragon Balls don’t work quite that way-" Bulma hedged, although, in the wrong hands, they might.  
The ball game continued unbeknownst to the musings going on, Eighteen was next. They all had to believe Shenron could step in against certain things… Yamcha decided to showboat and pitch Roshy out and Eighteen got to first base.  
Laughter and cheers drowned out the music. The four- person crowd boo'd Her ex into an easier pitch for Chi-Chi that got the bride and Eighteen another go around the bases leaving Bulma up next. She had changed into flats before leaving the bridal shop and was loathe to admit the height difference (and possibly sporting confidence) cowed her a bit.  
“Y'know how to hold the bat correctly, Bulma?” Yamcha smirked, obviously enjoying his prowess.  
Son chuckled from somewhere on the wind blown field, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Bulma hold one of those before now- or any sporty equipment, for that matter.”  
“Goku!” Chi-Chi snarled causing Krillens guffaws to die in his throat.  
Bulma bared her teeth as she picked up the bat, perched it against her hip and poured water over her sunkissed shoulders and chest, wetting the deep red fabric in order to appropriately stick it to her body, she shivered seductively, throwing the water bottle to the side after taking a sip and shaking out her hair in a sexy little muss.  
“Looks like there’s a few more things for you to learn, Yamcha!” Eighteen bated causing Puar to call foul to an unmoved Piccolo (and causing Chi-Chi to laugh.)  
“I'm ready for you, Yamcha.” Bulma cooed, sticking her ass out with a soft arch in her back while her bat sat poised and ready over her shoulder.  
The ball was passed her before she even realized what had happened. Bulma panicked swung anyway causing jibes and cheers alike. Annoyed she skewered Yamcha with a glare. He was already laughing with Krillen. The anchor woman was calling out information as Bulmas fumble was broadcast. A burn lit Bulmas cheeks and she called for her ex to try her again. When the play was repeated with a swing and a miss once more Bulma had a moment of outsider-looking-in then stuffed it down behind determination. No bad feelings allowed; this was a fun game with her fun friends.  
Flipping his hat backward, Yamcha geared up. Uttered by the nameless TV woman was the bet that Bulma would be left in the dust again by her ex, and she froze. The ball whizzed passed her bat and the sting of those words hurt worse then a wasp. Piccolo called her out and she forgot to move.  
Eighteen called that she and Chi-Chi were stealing, and Chi-Chi squealed, obviously unprepared for the run. Piccolo threw the ball back to Yamcha who then threw it to Goku who sat near second and refused to touch his wife. All the Z fighters cheered and caused ruckus while Bulma felt her heart still stutter frozen. After all the passed time, after all of her amazing inventions for and in Earth’s name and the uncountable Zenni donated around her world she was still a poorly timed joke?  
The cheers had died as the game intensified and she would have still been frozen had the bat not been taken out of her grip and a hand hoisting her up to harsh lips. Shocked Bulma wrapped her arms around his neck and tippy toed into Vegetas chest. He leaned her back, keeping her off balance and showing off his considerable strength. Each show of affection from Vegeta seemed harsh, as if he disliked doing it- until he was actually doing it.  
He purred, his gruff voice taking on a honeyed bourbon silk effect, “I believe I like you best obedient.”  
Breathless Bulma laughed unexpectedly, “That’s a lie. I see you smile when I get mad.”  
Vegeta scoffed but the sound was made only for her ears and eclipsed by his broad shoulders from her friends. She grinned and he steered her away to skip to the loser’s bench. Seconds past with some rude commentary through the local news castor then Vegeta hit the ball just hard enough to walk everyone around the mound to home run.  
Cheers abounded and back and forth the game went with Vegeta and Goku. The first round Yamcha seemed cocky; joking and laughing his way through the rounds- and then Vegeta threw the ball hard enough to break his shoulder if he hadn’t been a fighter. After that, the cockiness faded from jeers to chuckles, then forced smiles now at glowers. Forgetting all about the elite ball player of Earth the news caster was playing compliment after compliment to Bulmas new beau (apparently bumped up from sudden nameless alien boy toy) and Earth’s mightiest hero; Son Goku. Bulma might even feel bad for her ex.  
Except she was running this game ruthlessly, “Go Vegeta! Yeah! Beat that goofball!”  
“Hey!” Goku pouted, brows drawn, “That wasn’t very nice!”  
Vegeta stuck Goku out.  
“Bulma!” Chi-Chi snapped hands on her hips, “No helping the devious Saiyan against my groom!”  
Pretending to zip her lips Bulma tried to look innocent. Eighteen was laughing at something Tights had called to her when Bulma accidentally caught Yamchas eyes. He looked like he wanted to span the distance between them and apart of her remembered her silly wish the first time she had collected the Dragon Balls with Goku. She had wanted a prince when out of the sunset rode Yamcha. Young. Dumb. And hung.  
Clapping and cheering abounded when Bulma looked up. Last bat would be Yamcha and he was headed that way. Bulma slinked up to her paid date in offer of water and her fresh hotdog. He gobbled the entire thing in a bite then pulled her close for what she assumed was the camera.  
She smiled flirtatiously running her hand down his shaven cheek, “Lose the game.”  
Before watching his reaction, the heiress twirled away. Her friends noticed none of it, they were too busy teasing and goofing around. She didn’t want to see the snooty retort or reaction from Vegeta, however, she wouldn’t be plain mean to her ex-prince because she wasn’t a mean person.  
Vegeta threw the ball so hard it exploded the bat and sent Piccolo flying backward on his ass for catching it. Yamcha was shaking as he looked unbelieving at the tattered wooden splinters left in his hands. Their friends cheered while Bulma's jaw was still dropped. Could that pitch have killed Yamcha if it hit him? She wasn’t so sure it wouldn’t have.  
Vegeta nonchalantly dropped the pink vest and stalked over to Bulma, pitching her thighs up on his hips. She caught onto his warning growl, remembering earlier, wrapped her legs around the small of his back and shouted her joy. The boys all slapped each others back and joked around while Yamcha watched Bulma be dragged down to Vegetas mouth in a harsh enough yank that she cried out then melted into the violent kiss. This was a punishment.  
Bulma gushed, she got so wet.  
A slap on Vegetas back he obviously allowed although his breathing was heavy, “Good game, Vegeta!”  
“Don’t touch me, Kakarot.” Vegeta shrugged him off, allowing Bulma to slide down his torso.  
Bulma laughed a bit too shrill.  
Goku pointed, “Uhm, Bulma your shirt is… a little crooked"  
“I hope the lessons tomorrow go as well for Goku as the game went for us today,” Chi-Chi hooked her arm into Bulmas, “Whatdoyasay? Will you come?”  
“Awe, c'mon, Chi-Chi,” Goku started to beg.  
She slashed her hand in front of her, “I don’t want to hear a word, mister!”  
Vegeta regarded Goku as he pulled Bulma against him, “Dancing is the first form of sparring; it is intrinsic to be able to uphold the stealth of do mighty predator as it is to unleash the might of your strength against you’re enemy. Otherwise you’re missing a weapon in your arsenal of assault.”  
Bulma and Chi-Chi shared a shocked look. If his dominating side made Bulma gush, this poetic killer thing fanned those flames. But damnit she didn’t want to like someone who knew how pathetic she really was.  
With new relish Goku announced, “Then I really am behind. Chi-Chi and I have a two hour lesson tomorrow morning. Think you can make it?”  
“-Well.” Bulma started.  
“Please!”  
“I won’t have to ride with Krillen and Eighteen!” Tights chimed in.  
“We’ll be there.” Vegeta vowed.  
Bulma squeaked and looked at him when Piccolo came over and shot Goku down before his mouth even opened. Eighteen and Krillen came over as well and Tights slug an arm around Eighteens neck to whisper something in her ear that they both snickered about. No one cared what Bulmas day was going to be like and while she pretended to be indignant for a few minutes, she couldn’t keep it up for long; being around her friends was the coming home she needed.  
“Tell me more about your childhood adventures.” Vegeta draped his arm around her shoulder.  
The drones weren’t buzzing and Bulma felt suspicious but with his thigh touching hers, she relaxed further


End file.
